Key Slime

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Henry Flagler lived the kind of fascinating and far-ranging life one expects from a 19th century American tycoonapreneurist. Among his achievements was enabling access to the Florida Keys by railroad in 1912 as a final triumph in his campaign to fully develop Florida. Although his amazing railroad was thoroughly trashed in the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935, the remaining infrastructure was utilised to create the Overseas Highway that today funnels people down a pocky two-lane road to the the "paradise" that inspired Margaritaville. Cruising down this morning past countless seafood restaurants, boat dealerships and flipflopperies, I noted how the actual development of the Keys seemed to end in 1980. It's all gravel roads, pickup trucks and brutish building design.

The Keys vibe is laissez-faire, sunburned and fashionless. You go there to behold the immaculate Carribean-style beaches, fish, drink and fish drunkenly. There's also an abundance of catch-of-the-day offerings and I obediently wolfed down yet another chunk of the handsome mahi-mahi, which appears to be the official food of South Florida.

It is devastatingly tropical, and tropically hot. Everyone here sweats like a smack addict. The men are beer-bellied, browned and bearded and the women are staggeringly modelesque. In this way it is no different than the rest of the South Florida. I no longer agonize, wondering, "How on earth did he end up with her??" There is no balance in the hotness. It is not the Bay Area, I must remind myself.

My family and I tucked tail as the temperatures began to crack the mid 90's. On our way back to the mainland, I saw a sandbar party developing off of Windley Key. There are not adequate words to describe the conflicting emotions I felt as we sped home, past a group of hundreds of boats floating together, with drunk and bikini-clad party people just getting warmed up. "Save it for the Greek Islands," I thought to myself, "Save it for the beautiful and hirsute women of Greece..."

As a bonus, we were blessed with a traditional 4pm South Florida thunderstorm, complete with rapid-fire lightning strikes and torrential downpour with the sun blazing. This place is So. Strange. My Pop's coworker Daryl stopped by and hooked us up with his famous Pork Jeera and blasted the system on his kitted-out Eclipse. The bass was so loud, penetrating and therapeutic I actually was able to go number two for the first time in a week after listening to a Ja Rule song! Daryl is from an archipelago nation called Trinidad and Tobago. Trinidad and Tobago represent! They even have a tiny island called "Huevos." I say they should get to host the next Olympics instead of Beijing.

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